


Maiden Voyage

by asterika



Category: Mother 1 | EarthBound Zero | EarthBound Beginnings
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterika/pseuds/asterika
Summary: Ana comes to terms with the long road ahead.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Maiden Voyage

_Ana was running. Breaths came in unpleasant stabs that punctured her lungs, and her legs felt swollen with fatigue, but there was no denying the fear that was keeping her legs moving._

_The darkness had a chokehold on her eyeballs. Ana dared not breathe too suddenly for fear of swallowing whatever was stifling the light from this place. She could feel her arms pumping with the rhythm of her sprint. It was comforting, in a twisted sense. If she ever caught sight of the thing that was chasing her, she had the distinct feeling her kneecaps would give out, and she would crumple like a tin can under a cinderblock._

_The terror never diminished as she ran. But the more she moved, the more she seemed to hit her stride. With each gallop it felt as if her pace was increasing. If she ran fast enough she might reach whatever tunnel existed on the other side to pull her out of whatever nightmare scenario she was locked in._

_Then her legs were hit with a wave of arrhythmia. Something snared her ankles, and Ana crashed to the floor. Her limbs, paper light just moments prior, turned to lead as she struggled to lift her head._

_The ground shook as her pursuant edged closer. She shuddered, already anticipating the crushing weight of the thing, liquefying her ribcage and squeezing the life out of her while she could do nothing but feel it happen with excruciating detail._

_As the pounding grew louder, a faint hissing cut through the air. The sound of pincers and furious scuttling of legs joined in not long after._

_Ana didn’t dare look up at her new assailant. Instead, she closed her eyes even tighter as the thing let out a cry akin to sharp nails against a chalkboard. A pebble no bigger than a marble dropped against the arch of her back. From the point of impact, a dull numbing sensation spread, and the paralysis metastasized._

_Right before it threatened to close around her face and heart, she sank through the ground. Ana fell, still passing through sheets upon sheets of empty black. Wind wasn’t whistling and her hat was staying on her head, but the faint nausea in her belly and the weightlessness of her body keyed her in. It was just a matter of bracing herself for the impact that was sure to shatter every bone in her body —_

_Except it didn’t come. The feeling of sliding down a very long tunnel ebbed away like ripples on the surface of a lake, and she found herself on her feet. She patted her face, then her back. There was no grimy stone trapping her skin like a prison. Her ribcage was fine._

_She breathed a sigh of relief, then caught herself as she acquainted herself with surroundings._

_Giant capsules, as far as the eye could see stood in front of her. They would have looked like giant pills, were they not transparent and filled with a colorless liquid that made her stomach turn._

_And suspended in each fluid was a person. No kids — the size and developed body structures disqualified that thought almost immediately. What looked like a giant cable was attached to each adult’s back._

_She made her way through the labyrinth of human test tubes. As she passed them, each prisoner pressed themselves against the glass, pounding and shouting, though no sound escaped the containers. After a while, it was easier to cover her ears and close her eyes as she continued to weave between the library of people. The tugging in her heart and stomach were enough direction anyway. She knew exactly who she needed to see._

_What felt like an eternity passed before she finally stopped and opened her eyes. The capsule in front of her was no different than the hundreds — no, thousands — that she had just passed a moment ago._

_No, Ana shared an uncanny resemblance with the person trapped inside this one. The same shoulder-length, blond hair. Both of their noses ended in a delicate point. Their eyes shared the same shade of blue._

_Their expressions of horror matched, too._

_Ana lost her composure. She pounded at the glass and let out a primal shriek. It looked as thin as construction paper, yet with each fist she brought upon the icy-cold surface, her whole hand jolted at the impact and pain would sear across her knuckles._

_She cursed, spitting words she would never let cross her mind in her waking moments. She bemoaned her own physical impotence, the captors that had snatched her mother away from her, her mother for getting herself into the whole ordeal._

_The glass still stood, resolute as ever against her vitriol._

_Another figure appeared in the reflection. She spun around._

_The boy was wiry, with numerous bruises dotting his thin legs. He balanced a metal bat that looked too big for him on his shoulders, and tugged at the tattered handkerchief wrapped carelessly around his neck. Atop his head was a red baseball cap, slung backward at just the right angle for tufts of black hair to poke out from the hole created by the closure. His expression was taut, as if he was permanently scrutinizing whatever or whoever was in front of him._

_“That your mom?” His accent was as coarse as the rest of his appearance._

_Ana was tongue-tied._

_“What’re you gonna do?” he continued. He took the weapon off his shoulders, and his voice seemed to soften._

_“I-I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am.”_

_“Does that even matter?” he asked. “You’re here now. If I know who’s doing this — all of this — then I know for damn sure that you at least have an idea. We’re the same, aren’t we?”_

_He brought a finger to his forehead. Without a second thought, she mirrored him._

_“Yeah…”_

_“‘Course, you don’t need me to tell you that. You’re a smart enough cookie. Hell, I’m not even sure you really need my help.”_

_With that remark, the boy turned and backed away from her._

_Ana’s heart bounced in her chest._

_“Wait!” she shouted._

_But the boy was receding. Soon enough, he would be too far to hear her._

_“Please - ! Tell me your name, at least!”  
_

With a shiver, Ana wrenched the covers from her body. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, but had no desire to drink despite the sweat sticking her nightgown to her skin.

She looked out the window. The dream felt like hours, but had barely begun to set over the snow-capped crests just visible from the second floor of the château. The nap had done what felt like nothing to ease her exhaustion. If it was possible, she felt even more tired, as if she had actually run the distance in reality.

Of course, she had to shake the horrible suspicion that the dream wasn’t exactly a dream at all.

The adrenaline from the nightmare was still in the process of wearing off, but the grief that had plagued her for so long was starting to settle in again. For a single hopeful moment, she allowed herself to imagine the sound of tinkling keys that usually filled the house at this hour.

Her mother would say fresh snowfall was the best soundproofing, right before launching into the first few bars of _Clair de Lune_. Ana would watch with ill-disguised envy as her mother’s hands slid up and down the keys with unparalleled precision. They pressed upon them delicately, and the Steinway would emit a similarly tinkle, as if she was letting her daughter in on an important secret for her ears alone.

Ana was no slouch in the musical department. She sang solos in choir with the kind of confidence difficult to muster even in some adults. She consistently led her music class whenever their teacher taught them a new song. When the pastor invited guests over, she played some of the pieces her mother had taught her with acceptable grace. But when she watched her mother play, her expression serene despite the complexity of some of the stretches her fingers had to make, her pride shriveled like a fruit left out in the sun.

Ana set the water down. She pulled on the last clean thick pair of socks and got out of bed.

Her footsteps echoed in the dark corridor, and Ana had to suppress a shiver as remnants of the dream drifted in and out of her mind. When she arrived at the practice room, she flicked the switch. The light flickered for a few moments, and she breathed a small sigh of relief as it finally turned on.

The lid of the piano was caked with dust. Ana wasn’t tall enough to reach it with the feather-duster without straining herself. But the keys were still as white and black as she remembered them. She didn’t bother changing the sheet music on the music rack — she’d been working on _Rêverie_ ever since her mother had disappeared.

A few of those choice swear words came to mind as she took a deep breath and wondered if today was going to be the day her fingers and feet would co-operate.

She began to play, her heart sinking after the first bar. None of the strikes hit with the force she wanted them to. Her presses on the delay pedal were irregular. After a few bars, it no longer sounded like music, and she had to stop and wind her fingers together to prevent them from slamming the music rack.

The minutes blurred into hours as the attempts piled on. Try as she might, Ana realized it was just one of those days. She would be lucky to even get past the first page. The more she played, the more the sounds took on the form of bells clanging against one another. Anger bubbled to the surface — slowly, then all at once — as tears sprung to her eyes while she pawed at the keys fruitlessly.

Part of her was glad her mother wasn’t here to witness this breakdown. Sometimes her easing was more infuriating than comforting. When she would examine the sheet music, tell her exactly what the error was, and lightly reprimand her for using excessive force on the keyboard, Ana had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling.

She wanted so badly to give up then and there. She wasn’t good, and she never would be good. It would’ve been so easy to walk away from it all, spending the rest of her time practicing only the pieces she already had under the belt. Yet the thought of the disappointment on her mother’s face would be too harsh to bear, and she would return to the piece.

And it would always be hard. Practicing the same bar over and over was analogous to slamming your head into a wall over and over until it finally caved. The funny thing was, however, it always did, no matter how long it took. Eventually the bar would cave (albeit not without a short break in which she feverishly launched into scales as a way to calm herself), and the rest of the piece would fall not long after.

 _Keep at it_ , her mother would say, _and you’ll surprise yourself_.

Try as she might, Ana couldn’t summon the same determination that day. Not long after she had given up and started staring blankly at the ceiling, the pastor called her for dinner. She didn’t hesitate on her way out of the room.  
  
  


The dining table was a reckless purchase on the pastor’s part. He had seen it come out of a loading truck on the day before a flea market, asked about its price, and bought it without so much a second thought.

Ana didn’t understand exactly why he was so attached to the thing, but she had to admit that it looked nice among all the other wooden furniture that made up her home. It was bookended by two semicircles of polished wood. Simple carvings adorned the serpentine sides, which gave way to the slight curvature of the legs of the table.

And when she saw him set the table, Ana was reminded only of how empty it all looked.

She returned the thin smile he flashed at her when she entered the dining room, and took care to sit at her usual spot. Her father took his place at the head of the table. Sitting where her mother was would’ve put her closer to him, but the thought of doing so scared her. It felt like murder.

He dug into the food (leftover roast and vegetables) while she made her way to the kitchen. Ana took as much time as humanly possible filling a glass with water before settling back at the table. Her stomach growled, but her appetite was diminutive.

Most of their dinners passed like this now, with both parties refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The pastor would talk aimlessly about Mass sometimes, and Ana would bring up a few inane details about school or a particular piano piece. Once in a while, she would tell him about the dream. He would assuage her concerns while looking plenty worried himself. They would exchange another thin set of smiles after their plates were cleared, and after he had finished washing and drying the dishes and she had wiped down the table, the pair of would retreat to each other own rooms. The thought of spending time together had mutated into a poison that settled in her stomach, and Ana was quite glad to wash it down alone in her room, reading a book or attempting to do homework while desperately trying to mute the sounds of her father filling a glass with ice cubes.

The pastor cleared his throat. Ana braced herself.

“How goes practicing?”

Ana trained her eyes upon a pea, and pushed it around with her fork.

“It’s fine.”

“What you have so far sounds great,” he continued. “It sounds like hard work, but you just have to — ”

“Keep at it,” she inserted. “Thanks, dad.”

His expression was blank, but he rearranged his face into a smile.

The pastor turned his attention back to the meal, and Ana mustered the courage to tell him about the only topic for discussion remaining.

“I had the dream again.”

“Hm?” His tone was light, as if entertaining a joke. “Did you see it this time?”

A spot of exasperation cracked across Ana like a whip. She fought to control her voice.

“No. But it was as big as it always is. It didn’t get me. I fell through the floor.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you got away. But sweetie, you know it can’t get you — ”

“I saw mom.”

The pastor chewed, his eyes betraying the placidity that marked the rest of his expression. Ana continued, determined not to let him intercept.

“She was in a tube, along with a bunch of other adults. I tried talking to her but I couldn’t hear her through the glass.”

Her father finished chewing, but remained silent.

“I think those are the disappearances that we’ve been hearing about, from Youngtown, from Merrysville, from all over.”

“Sweetie,” he said. “They’re just dreams, you know. It’s been hard lately, and you’re just trying to — ”

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” Ana interjected. “It’s all real. I’d swear it on anything. I can’t prove it to you, but I just know it. You wouldn’t understand.”

The pastor’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me about it, then. So I can understand.”

Ana bit her lip and threw caution to the wind.

“I’ve been seeing someone else in the dream. This boy I’ve never met before.”

“I have dreams with people I haven’t before, too,” he responded quickly. “They’re a bit faceless, but feel like real people — ”

“I know what you’re talking about, and this isn’t like that. Right now I could tell you everything about what he looked like, every exact thing about him.”

“Fine,” the pastor shot back. “Even so, it’s as meaningless as the rest of the dream. Nothing about it makes sense, so you should stop worrying about it all, alright?”

His voice carried an uncharacteristic edge. Ana knew something was threatening to spill, but she was so close now. She had been hyping herself up for it for weeks, and she knew that if she didn’t do it then and there, it would take another equally long spell of dry conversation and seemingly endless nights before she was ready to even consider bringing it up to him again.

She took a breath. “I have to go find mom.”

“No,” her father replied simply. “No, there’s no way I’d ever let you do that.”

“Why?” she asked, keenly aware her voice was about an octave higher than it usually was. “Because there are people out there looking for her that are supposed to be looking for her?”

“Yes, exactly that!” he exclaimed. “There are people — policemen, detectives — out there trying their hardest to find her, and they will find her!”

“She disappeared! They haven’t told us anything in weeks!”

“They’re doing all they can!”

“No, they aren’t! They won’t listen to me, you won’t listen to me, and they’ll never find her! They don’t know where to look, and she’s going to be lost forever unless we do something about it — ”

The pastor slammed a palm against the table, and his cup of water spilled with a light thud. Ana watched the tiny liquid streaks make their way across the table as she struggled to find something to say.

She expected the pastor to yell, but all the fight seemed to have left his body.

“I can’t let you go out on your own,” he said, bottom lip quivering. “It’s too dangerous.”

Something large and uncomfortable rose in her own throat, but Ana rested a hand on the back of his.

“I can’t lose you too. You’re not ready.”

Everything came into crystal-clear relief. A lightning bolt of understanding passed between her and her father, and she had no trouble mellowing out her voice.

“I’ll never be ready, dad,” she said. “But the more we wait, the less time we have, and we don’t know what’s going to happen to her. I have to do it.”

Her father sniffed, then met her eyes.

“Where, then? Where do you have to go?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have the feeling I’ll know once I see whoever this boy is. He wouldn’t be in the same dream as mom if he wasn’t also important to finding her.”

He nodded.

In that motion, the gravitas of it all finally caught up to Ana. A fear unlike anything she had ever experienced before — even including that awful recurring nightmare — gripped her heart, and she found it difficult to breathe. But then the image of her mother in that cell swam to the forefront of her vision, and she found the resolve to smile at her father despite the dread gnawing at her gut.

She opened her mouth to thank him when the doorbell rang. Her father stared at her, and suddenly the two of them had no guesses as to who was outside.


End file.
